


Brothers Reunited

by ikawritesthings



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Afterlife, Dream Team SMP Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Dream Team SMP Lore (Video Blogging RPF), Ghost Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Ghost TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ghost Wilbur Soot, Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Minor Violence, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Other, Resurrection, Temporary Character Death, The Disc War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, apparently, he and wilbur reunite, its real sad, no beta we die like tommyinnit, schlatt is kinda just there, techno is like barely mentioned, tommy is dead for like 20 minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikawritesthings/pseuds/ikawritesthings
Summary: 'If he knew death would be so boring, maybe he would’ve fought back a little more.'OR: Tommy briefly reunites with Wilbur in the afterlife.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 14
Kudos: 170





	Brothers Reunited

Tommy felt nothing. 

It wasn’t a cold, empty nothing… It was warm, comforting. A reprieve from the pain he’d been feeling a few seconds before, as Dream’s fists connected with his stomach again and again and _again-_

He was floating in what felt like an endless expanse of bright white light, but his limbs felt as if they were being pulled down by a hundred pairs of hands. Feeling both weighted and weightless at the same time is a strange sensation. You feel as if you could soar into the sky, (wherever the sky was in this place), and also as if you’re desperately struggling to stay above sea level. It made Tommy feel a little motion sick, as he swayed like a leaf caught on the wave of the autumn wind.

Was this death? A constant state of purgatory? Was he stuck like this, floating in nothing forever?

He tried to speak, tried to call for someone. His vocal chords felt just as weighted as the rest of his body. It was like his veins had some sort of gunk flowing through them instead of his blood, making him heavy and lethargic.

His feet came into contact with solid ground, a ground - _air,_ his mind helpfully supplied, _you're standing on solid fucking air._ His dirty red and white sneakers looked out of place somewhere so clean, but finally being on some solid ground helped to lessen the gunky feeling in his bones.

With a clearer head, Tommy examined his surroundings. Much like before, it was just a bright white expanse of nothing. No angels, no clouds, no big golden gates or a pretty marble staircase; no fire, no torture devices, no flames licking up the walls and no evil man in red sneering down at him from a bedrock throne. Just nothing.

“Well, this fucking sucks.” He muttered hoarsely to himself, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, picking a random direction, and walking. If he knew death would be so boring, maybe he would’ve fought back a little more. A part of him felt ashamed for going out so lamely - he always imagined his final death would be something more fantastic, like dying in a massive explosion trying to save one of his friends, or in a duel to the death for his honour - but the other part felt relieved. Sure, he left things unsolved, like the egg, but they were no longer his problem. He didn’t have to worry every night about Dream breaking out of prison and coming for him or Tubbo in their sleep, or the Egg consuming everything and everyone he loved. He could just relax, finally be at peace, or some shit like that.

After maybe five minutes of walking, _(Five? Ten? Tommy couldn’t tell)_ , he spotted figures in the distance. At first, he couldn’t make out much about them, but as he got closer he realised there were two, one sat down and one pacing about anxiously. The one sitting down had a blue sweater, pale grey skin, and ram horns. He nursed what seemed to be a shot glass of whiskey in his hand, as his eyes lazily tracked the movements of the other person. Said person wore a tattered grey beanie and a long, brown trench coat, of which the ends were singed and torn. He had a white shirt on underneath, that was torn and soaked with blood in the middle.

Schlatt and... _Wilbur._

Tommy tried to call out to them, finding his vocal chords unable to carry his voice the few metres between them. Unable to run with the ever lingering heaviness, he picked up the pace as much as his body would allow, waving his arms in a desperate attempt to catch their attention. 

“I’m telling you, he’s here! Don’t you feel the space that opened is now full?” Wilbur asked, looking pleadingly at the other man. Neither had seemed to notice Tommy approaching.

“What-the-fuck-ever, pretty boy. Ya said that last time and he never showed up! Besides, that kid is fuckin’ annoying, no way he dies that easy.” He took another sip from his whiskey, which seemed to infuriate Wilbur.

“You probably can’t feel it because you’re so drunk all the time! Seriously, that shit killed you and here you are still chugging it like it’s nothing! I’m getting sick of it!”

Schlatt laughed, locking eyes with Wilbur and taking another sip. He glanced to his side, finally noting the movement, and choked when he saw who was approaching. Spluttering, he ignored Wilbur’s concern and simply pointed over to Tommy,

“Stop- lookin’ at me, and go talk to him.” He caught his breath long enough to lean back with a defeated sigh, “Looks like you were right. We got a new housemate.”

Wilbur’s head snapped up, and his eyes finally met Tommy’s. Unlike the boy, whose face split into a wobbly grin, Wilbur’s face crumpled at the sight of his little brother. He immediately closed the distance between them, pulling the teen into an embrace and smoothing out his hair,

“Tommy!” He sobbed, holding the boy as tightly as he could, “Tommy… fuck, you- you’re not supposed to be here yet. It’s too soon, it’s way too soon…” Tommy laughed into his shoulder, a surge of relief washing over him.

“Nice to see you, too, dickhead.” He muttered, earning a pained laugh and an even tighter hug from Wilbur. It was strange - he didn’t think he’d ever get to see Wilbur ever again. After watching Phil carry his lifeless body from the button room, laying it out on the stony remains of L’Manberg’s land, Tommy feared he’d forget what his brother looked like when he was alive. The haunting image of his pale face, splattered with his own blood looking so disturbingly at peace, was burned into Tommy’s memory forever. He’d sometimes lay awake at night trying to remember how Wilbur looked when he’d crack a stupid joke, or how he’d look when Tommy said something questionable, or how he’d look when he was afraid one of his shitty insults dug a little too deep. It was becoming harder and harder to conjure up those images, every single one being overwritten with the hallowing picture of Wilbur lying dead at his feet.

Now, as he pulled away from the hug and saw him - properly - for the first time in over a year, he realised all at once how desperately he’d missed him. Truthfully, Tommy felt a little lost without Wilbur to guide him.

“What happened?” Wilbur asked, holding the boy at arms length and observing his appearance, “How the _hell_ did you die!? You look awful..." he winced, wiping dried blood from Tommy’s cheek.

“Yeah, you look like you got jumped by like, fifty fuckin’ dudes or somethin’!” Schlatt slurred from where he was laying in the background, earning a harsh glare from Wilbur.

“Hi _Schlatt_ , thanks,” Tommy scowled, before turning his attention back to Wilbur, “And uh... it's a bit of q long story. Remember when I told you we put Dream in prison?” Wilbur narrowed his eyes confusedly, taking a minute to think,

“Vaguely? You mentioned it, when I spoke to you after you fought him."

“Well, I visited him, for closure... some shit like that, and uh...” Fuck, how was he gonna explain this one? “While I was there explosions went off outside, and I got locked in with him ‘cos of it, security protocols and whatever. After a week I'd had enough, started telling him how I didn't believe his revival book was real," Schlatt chuckled in the distance, "He got mad... and he… beat me up. Just kept hitting me and hitting me and I begged him to stop and he didn't.”

Wilbur froze, staring silently at Tommy’s expression, grip tightening on his shoulders.

“He _beat_ you to death?” he asked, very quietly, angrily.

Tommy nodded, “I told him I didn’t believe in his revival book… he just started swinging and didn’t stop ‘till I woke up here.”

" _Oh my fucking god."_

Wilbur wasn’t a very angry person. He got mad, yes, but never full on angry. Tommy had only ever seen Wilbur go full psycho mode twice, now three times, in his life - each scarier than the last.

Once, when Techno had left them in the middle of the night without saying anything, and hadn’t returned until two months later when everyone thought he was dead.

Once, when Eret had betrayed L’Manberg.

And now.

Wilbur’s rage was scary in a quiet kind of way. He didn’t scream, or yell, or throw punches. Instead, his eyes glazed over, much like how Techno’s did when he got too wrapped up in a battle, and he’d go silent. His words, if he spoke at all, were sharp. Designed to hurt. His tone was snappy, and his body language was full on offensive. Tommy could see him sinking into that now, warm brown eyes darkening in an uncontrollable, burning hatred for the man who’d killed his little brother so brutally.

“It’s okay now though, right?” Tommy quickly spoke, trying to break Wilbur from the spiral before he could sink any deeper. Nothing they could do to hurt Dream here, after all. “I’m here now. I don’t have to worry about any of that anymore, I’m safe with you, right?”

Wilbur seemed to snap back to him, the anger melting away in favour of a sympathetic smile. He pulled Tommy in for another hug,

“Of course, yeah. He can’t hurt you here, you’re safe with me.”

They stayed like that for a minute, basking in each other’s company, until Schlatt piped up again.

“Don’t mean to alarm ya,” he drawled, causing them to break away and glare at him, “But from the looks of things, kid’s going back up top.” He gestured towards Tommy’s hands, which had begun to glow with a golden light. Every second, the light travelled further up Tommy’s body, turning parts of him translucent.

“What’s happening!?” Wilbur tried to grab Tommy’s hand, only for his fingers to fall straight through the skin as if there was nothing there, “Schlatt, what the fuck is this!?”

“Looks like Dream is putting what I taught him to use,” Schlatt shrugged, tipping his head back and finishing the few drops of whiskey remaining in his glass, before locking eyes with Tommy, “Guess this is his proof to you that it’s real.”

Tommy’s heart began to pound as he watched his body practically disappear from underneath him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Why? Why was Dream bringing him back? Surely it was better for him if he stayed dead? He shook his head, looking pleadingly at Wilbur, who stood helpless with his hands outstretched, unable to touch any part of him.

“Wilbur, Wilbur I don’t wanna go back.” He whispered, tears gathering in his eyes for the first time since he’d died. He frantically tried to grab onto Wilbur’s arm, coat, sleeve - anything. Anything to stop him from going. “I don’t wanna be in the same world as him anymore. I wanna stay with you. Please Wilbur, _please_.”

He was trembling badly, fear coursing through his body at a rapid pace. He didn’t want to return to that room, where the walls felt like they could close it at any second and squeeze him until he suffocated. Unable to take the stress, his legs gave way underneath him, sending him crashing to the floor in a heap of tears and anxiety. Wilbur followed, trying desperately to soothe him,

“I don’t wanna go!” Tommy wailed, trying to wipe away some of the tears that stained his cheeks, “Not back there! Please, let me stay. Please. Please.” He didn’t even know who he was talking to anymore. “I don’t wanna be alone again.”

“Shh, I know, I know, Tommy,” Wilbur said softly, clearly trying his best to keep his composure, “I’ll see you again eventually, okay? You just gotta b-”

Wilbur’s voice got further and further away with every second, until it’d disappeared completely.

_A small obsidian room replaced the vast white expanse._

_Tommy opened his eyes, finding not the comforting face of his brother above him, but the cocky grin of his tormentor instead._

_"So…” Dream grinned, standing up straight and folding his arms over his chest, “Believe me now?”_

**Author's Note:**

> i refuse to believe tommy is dead and dream is def just using this as a way to prove the revive book is real but also... i just want an afterlife stream. just tommy and wilbur in a white expanse having a small reunion before we're sucked back into the chaos. i beg.
> 
> also it seems im unable to Not include techno in a fic. whoops. comments make me :] so pls leave them !  
> EDIT: post tommys recent stream .. .. .. THIS AGED POORLY LMAO


End file.
